Barney had no idea what time it was, but that was the least of his problems this night. It was pitch-black when he awoke. For a frightening moment he couldn’t think where he was. He was aware of nothing save the feel of cold steel at his throat. In an instant he was whisked back to Burma, unable to breathe in the unbearable heat and stifling humidity; the sound of distant gunfire, the high-pitched screech of men in hand-to-hand combat; the sound of frightened animals scattering; the fierce rustling in the thick undergrowth from all directions so that you didn’t know where to look next for the enemy.
There were two of them: small, lithe, their slant-eyes set in sharp bone structure and jaundiced-looking skin. Decked-out in their camouflage gear they were practically indistinguishable from the jungle. One had just jumped out of the underbrush and quick as a flash slit the throat of the man in front who was given no time to react with nothing but a short squeal. Barney stood frozen to the spot, a horror-struck expression freezing both his mind and body. Through a red veil of spurting blood, his first thought was that Alec Pepper wouldn’t be going home now. And neither would he if he just stood there like a meek lamb to the slaughter.
God, make me move! Please!
Self-preservation kicked in and Barney fumbled with his rifle, squeezing the trigger just in time to fell the same Jap who had just dispatched Alec Pepper. As the Jap sprang towards him, knife still dripping with Alec Pepper’s blood, Barney screamed. Then the bullet smashed into the man’s face, obliterating his features and showering Barney with a spray of dark blood and lumps of gore. The second Jap drew back his lips in a maniacal snarl and leaped impossibly high, pedalling the air to close the gap between him and his quarry. But he didn’t howl as Barney expected; it was all completed with nothing more than that terrible silent scowl, which would forever after be imprinted on Barney’s memory. All of a tremble, Barney jacked in another bullet just as the cold blade of the knife reached his throat, piercing his skin. A second shot rent the air. The impact of the bullet jackknifed the Jap into the air before he landed in a bloody heap on Barney, sending him crashing onto his back.
Barney shook off the body like a rabid dog, not sure if his assailant was dead. There was no time to give in to the vomit that threatened to bubble up in his throat. Swallowing the bile, he leapt back up and swung his head about, looking for more Japs – and for his saviour.
Barney hadn’t fired that second bullet.
*
All these years Barney had been plagued by sweat-soaked nightmares. 8They were the result of his experiences towards the latter end of WW11. There were many other terrible incidents happening at this particular time that had scarred his soul, not least that dreadful P.O.W. camp they had inadvertently marched into, the diseased inhabitants of which were barely able to stand and cheer their liberators. But it was always those two lone Japanese soldiers caught in a timeless freeze-frame, replaying over and over again, that haunted his dreams – that and their empty rifles. Indeed, were it not for the cold steel of their bayonets in contrast to a fast bullet – that and Sergeant Aitkin’s fortuitous emergence on the scene – he would be sleeping the sleep of the dead now. Barney had never told anyone about the nightmares, fearing he would be thought of as a weak ninny. The passing of the years had seen them diminishing in ferocity and recurring less frequently. His fortitude in overcoming this disturbing aspect of his life, entirely alone, was a testament to his strong will.
Disorientated, he lay still. Was he dreaming now? Was he really back in Burma, still fighting? Had all his life since been nothing but a dream? He was surrounded by silence until a low cackle whispered past his ear.
And then he remembered Evie and his present surroundings crashed in on him.
Gradually he was able to make out the dark shape of Evie kneeling next to his head, holding a knife to his throat. For a moment he was so shocked that petrifaction clung to his senses as if he were encased in ice.
Then he felt the knife move ever so slightly – but purposefully. It was a tense moment. The breath caught in his throat and the blood rushed past his ears, heart drumming so fiercely it seemed his chest was about to burst. He couldn’t think what Evie was up to. In the past, when she was in thrall to madness, she had turned the violence inwards, only ever directed at herself.
Was this a new phase? Or was it a cry for help? It would have been easy for her to slip out of bed and do herself harm without rousing him; she could be quiet and sneaky as a fox when she was a mind to. He had done everything possible to make the new house as safe as possible. He had requested that the gas be cut off and they had bought an electric cooker.
The last time Evie had lost her mind he had come home from work to find the house in Crystal Street filled with gas and Evie stretched out in front of the gas cooker. Fortunately, he was able to resuscitate her quite quickly and was grateful it had happened when he was due in from work. While she swore it was an accident he was never quite sure she was being truthful and the incident was never far from his mind. But he had kept quiet about it, for which he felt nothing but guilt, especially when, only a few days later, she did that dreadful thing with the knife. You had to have knives in the house; you couldn’t function in the kitchen without them.
But she had turned this knife on him. Why?
“Evie, sweetheart. It’s me. Barney. What’re you doing luv?”
She cackled again, louder this time.
Barney could easily overpower her but knew better than to move overtly. Very carefully he disentangled his hand from beneath the bed covers. Murmuring reassurances, he inched his hand towards her wrist. But before he could reach it a strangled cry erupted from Evie’s throat, her taut muscles went limp and she collapsed in a heap at his head.
After swiftly removing the knife from her loose grasp, he scrambled to sit up, switched on the bedside lamp and swivelled round to face her. She was kneeling on all fours at the head of the bed, just staring vacantly into his eyes, tears tumbling down her cheeks.
“Oh, ducky, whatever are we going to do? Come here.”
Barney took her into his arms, trying to give comfort to the forlorn.
Evie accepted his embrace and clung to him as if she were in danger of falling from a great height. It was a strange sort of crying, all the more poignant because it was conducted in silence. Barney waited patiently. Her tears seeped into the arm of his pyjama jacket. When the deep shudders riving her tiny frame slackened off, he tried to make sense of what had just happened. “What were you thinking of, Evie? You know you’d never hurt me. How shall we manage, eh?”
“They’re coming for me. They’re going to take me away.”
Barney pulled a face. He was tired of hearing the same old phrases, repeated as if they were fresh to both tongue and ear. Just because she wasn’t aware that she had repetitively voiced these fears didn’t make it any easier having to listen to them over and over again. He was ashamed too, not of her but of the things she said, none of which were true. But when she said these things in public, usually accompanied by a string of foul language, he wanted to curl up and die with embarrassment.
“No one’s coming. I’d never let anyone take you away from me. Don’t you know that by now?” He wondered at the last. The idea of going through the rest of his life having to cope with a periodic spell of insanity every four years or so was at best dispiriting and at worst unacceptable. He loved her though; what else could he do? Come Monday morning, when they were due to visit Peddleton, if he were to tell the doctor about this latest episode he would surely want to commit her.
“You’re going to lock me up again, aren’t you?”
There was the slightest hesitation before he answered. “No. We’re only going to see the doctor, that’s all. He’ll give you some treatment at the hospital and some medicine to take home with us. And then that’s it; that’s all that’s going to happen. Afterwards you’ll come straight home with me. And you’ll get better after every visit to Peddleton until, before you know it, everything will be back to normal.”
“But they’ll hurt my head.”
“It’s just like a very bad headache. I’m sorry, luv, but you have to take the nasty medicine before you can get better.” It was like dealing with a child when she was like this. “Perhaps this’ll be the last time and you’ll never be ill again.” He fervently hoped so. Otherwise he could see the years stretching out ahead filled with nothing but heartache; the thought brought him close to despair. “Try to go to sleep now.”
After a few moments Evie snuggled up to him, curling her tiny body into his and settling comfortably despite the great disparity in their frames. Before long Evie fell into a restless sleep. And Barney lay wide awake for the rest of the night, holding her in a tight embrace, fearful lest she wake and wipe out any chance of becoming a lifelong burden. Not least in his thoughts was a change of bedroom curtains; total dark in these circumstances was not a good idea. The curtains had been given to them. It was helpful at a time when they were really struggling. But there was no need for the bloody blackout now, by God, and they could certainly stretch to something more colourful now.